


In The Hearts of Demons

by A_J_Crowley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Angels, Big Bang Challenge, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Demons, Fallen Angels, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Good Omens Big Bang, Good Omens References, Heaven, Heaven & Hell, Hell, Multi, Original Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21128099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_J_Crowley/pseuds/A_J_Crowley
Summary: Demons were not well-known for their acts of kindness. It went against their very natures, some might argue. But, then again, this particular band of Hellish inhabitants had never been very good at their jobs.





	In The Hearts of Demons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All the amazing artists and authors who took part! You know who you are!](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+the+amazing+artists+and+authors+who+took+part%21+You+know+who+you+are%21).

> ‘BASED ON A TRUE STORY’
> 
> This fic, set in the Good Omens universe, is a piece of writing with a difference!  
On the 13rd of October 2019, a small group of artists participating in a GO Big Bang event answered a very special call – to partake in a secret mission to create artwork for a set of beautiful GO fanfics that had yet to be claimed in the initual rush between artists and authors.  
It was a simple concept, at first… but the resulting reaction to the eventual revelation of their plan sparked one of the most tender exchanges of community in all of fandom history!
> 
> The artists and writers still remain anonymous to each other to this day, separated by an oath of secrecy – but have become the inspiration behind this fanfic regarding a group of demons, a wayward angel, and a half-fallen deity, who go against the very core of their natures – and the will of their superiors – to bestow a simple act of kindness that may just incite a war between the powers of Heaven and Hell… but not in the way even the most holy of scripture could ever accurately predict. 
> 
> (Please refer to the notes at the end for more information)

Demons were not well-known for their acts of kindness. It went against their very natures, some might argue. But, then again, this particular band of Hellish inhabitants had never been very good at their jobs.

“There’s been word from Upstairs.” Snarled Lailah, flicking a long, forked tongue across dangerously sharpened teeth. “There’s a few holy texts that slipped through the cracks.”

The four lurking demons stood huddled beneath a wooden trellis adorned with ivy fronds, glowing in decedent shades of crimson under the fading light of Fall. They were clad in tatted overcoats, singed at the ends where hellfire had scoured the ancient fabric. But it was not the acrid scent of burnt silk and brimstone that had settled in the air like a nebulous cloud of foreboding. Instead, the demons’ hackles had been roused by their own spiritual brand of aroma; the putrid scent of good intentions wafting about them.

Gremory gave a weary huff, green eyes darting suspiciously to peek between the leaves; pointed ears attuned to the slightest scuffle of footfalls.

_They weren’t supposed to be out here._ If Downstairs caught wind of what they were plotting, they would surely be disciplined with the vilest tortures Hell knew how to bestow.

“And where did you enquire this… information?” probed Seir, with a calculated beat of their wings.

Lailah shrugged, as if the answer was plainly obvious. “With all of Head Office jostling to be paired with…” She stopped, pointedly extending a clawed finger towards the heavens with a grimace. “There’s bound to be some slip-up. Papers get lost. An angel trips in the brawl. You know our lot doesn’t play by the rules.”

The other demons gave a knowing look. A soft nod of chiselled jaws.

“That sssstill does not answer the quesssstion.” hissed Abraxas gravely. They stood a little ways from the huddle, their voice low; hushed with distrust.

Lailah hesitated. She wasn’t going to admit that her lead and been of the ethereal kind. Nor would she confess that her source’s… _source…_ was viewed as something a little less than trustworthy.

“You got it off that white-winged bastard, didn’t you?” probed Gremory, with an indignant roll of his eyes, sensing the uncertainty in her tightly coiled muscles. “That tartan-wearing idiot is hardly reliable! They were put under suspicion just last month for sharing secrets, I heard.”

“Besides…” interjected Seir. “Why would _we_ trust the word of the enemy?”

“Because this _enemy _is on your side… if we even _had _those anyone.” A voice, calm and coolly amused, whispered from the boughs above their heads. The four demons snapped their necks upward in alarm; reminiscent of rabbits startled by the shrill screech of an eagle’s cry.

“For Satan’s sake, Nihiel!” barked Lailah, letting her ruffled, raven feathers smooth the slightest touch. “We’re risking our necks out here! S’would have been nice to get a little bit of warning _before _you just dropped in on us.”

The angel gave a jingling laugh, gold-speckled cheeks bobbing with the motion. “Well, I didn’t think you idiots would simply accept my gesture of Heavenly faith. And… it seems that I was right.”

Nihiel reached out her arm as she delved between the fronds, her patterned waistcoat flaring as she extracted five slips of parchment from an unseen pocket. The demons eyed the papers suspiciously, sensing the holy essence rippling off them in waves. Beautiful and pure; at complete opposition to the tingling heat of their own tainted auras.

“Where… where did you get thesesssss?” breathed Abraxas, their chest heaving in silent awe. They too had been paired with a celestial partner in recent days, but the sacred power exuding from the papers still managed to catch the breath spluttering from their throat.

“That would be from me.” came yet another voice, echoing from the darkened canopy of the copse. The angel and demons startled as a figure emerged into the faint light of the dying sun, dusty grey wings kicking up the sand at their feet.

“Saleos?” stuttered Gremory in surprise. The being that loomed before them was a twisted character; distrusted by Heaven and revered by the powers of Hell. Half-fallen and burning with it; they had become stuck in the middle of the opposing sides a long, _long_ time ago.

“I caught those falling through the stratosphere.” Saleos replied with a sigh. “With all the chaos happening up there, they must have slipped from Heaven’s grasp. There were never enough of us down here to catch them all.”

The demons winced, slitted pupils flicking to their palms. A tiny, glowing symbol adored the soft flesh; the Enochian name of their Heavenly counterpart. The runes had appeared there the day prior, when the first of the holy texts had trickled their way to Earth. It was an idea concocted by the Almighty Herself. A final effort to bring Heaven and Hell together; to forge peace between them, once and for all.

“And you want _usssss_ to…?” Abraxas asked incredulously, waving their hand in an elegant pose for emphasis. A sliver of scarlet light chased their fingertips, crackling like a sparkler in the crisp, dusk air.

“If you so choose.” Answered Saleos, casting behind them with a wary glance. “It must be done in secret. And quickly! Lest anyone find out…”

The demons and the angel each gave a shallow gulp. This was not something they had expected to be dragged into so suddenly, but the enticing pull of the texts called to them. _Beckoned_ them. And perhaps… perhaps _that _was worth the risk.

***

Less than an hour later, the ragtag group of supernatural beings were perched upon an abandoned rooftop in North London - the jagged cracks, gaping from years of neglect, spewed with damp moss and colourful lichen. It wasn’t the most comfortable abode for the completion of their mission, but it would help to conceal them from prying human eyes.

They worked tirelessly, hands drifting over the pages of parchment like that of trained composers instructing an orchestra in song. Veins of light flared in the emptiness of the cold, October eve, erupting from fingertips in twirling swathes of burnt umber and icy, neon blue. They danced alongside the angelic scripture; runes merging with the elegant prose to form shape… then _life._ A painting of celestial proportions; of holiness and temptation; of powers bleeding into each other – both divine and occult. An artist’s visualisation of a writer’s words.

_Such was the gift of demonic hands. _

“Hurry now. We don’t have much time!” Saleos whispered urgently. They had been observing the event on a gnarled spire of rotting, wooden beams, their face pale in the silver wash of ebbing moonlight.

The four demons and the angel grunted distractedly; too lost in the birth of their creations to say anything more; but, one by one, demonstrated acknowledgement by completing their illustrations with the dying _pop_ of celestial fire being snubbed out.

As the lights faded, the stories of the lost texts swelled hungrily; merging with the art gifted by their newfound partners. All five beings lurched in response, prompted to their feet as the Enochian symbols of the anonymous authors were suddenly branded upon them. Faint, barely distinguishable above the fleshy tones, but there, nonetheless; as instantaneous as a lightning strike.

“Oof, that still has a fair kick to it!” groaned Gremory, kneading the ache from his wrist. The others shook themselves, sleek wings ruffling to mimic the sound of rainfall.

“Now what?” piped Nihiel, as Saleos hopped down from the spire. They made a brisk sweep across the creaking rooftop, snapping up the papers with the haste of hellfire at their heels. The supernatural artists offered them up with a sense of reluctance born of longing. A deep yearning for more time. To create for the angels that had given them a touch of Heaven in the simple utterance of their words.

But there weren’t enough stolen moments in the eternity of their immortal lives to satisfy their desire to construct constellations out of such scared scripture. To match the fragile beauty found within the pages; at least, not by them, _alone. _

“Wait.” whispered Seir, their gravelly tone imbued with the softness of grace. They reached out to take Saleos’ arm, lips pressed against the glowing parchment as they uttered a demon’s prayer. _Kind, heartfelt words to be carried to an author they would never meet._

The others copied the notion, each taking their turn to bestow a few words of their own. Whispers to guide the texts back home. Across starlight skies and burning earth. To seek out and find the demon they were truly destined to bond with.

“Alright.” breathed Saleos, once all the messages had been safely passed over. “It is time we concluded this arrangement of ours.” They swept a satisfied glance over the assembled crowd, a smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. “Perhaps we will meet again over some cheese and biscuits once all this madness is finally over?”

And with that, they were gone. A tiny, grey speckle amongst an ocean of stars. The group watched them go, tired but warmed. _They had done it._ They had given the tiniest of gifts to creatures they would only meet in the myriad of their dreams, never to know them but for the marks on their skin and the experience they now shared.

“Well… I guess that’s all done then.” Lailah noted with a shrug, breaking the silence.

“You think it wassss the right thing to do?” questioned Abraxas curiously, long, raven hair twisting in an unfelt breeze. They looked graciously calm, contented even.

“For a demon, no. But for _us…_” grinned Lailah, a fiendish quirk to her lip. “Wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

The small group let out a shared sigh. All they could do now was wait… and _hope_ for the best. _How would the angels respond? Would they even care? Would they be offended that demons had dared to touch their most holy creations? _

Lailah shivered, midnight scales lifting with the faintest semblance of fear.

_Please;_ she begged silently, to the lurking chaos of her own chortling mind. _Please, let them accept this token of…_

A sudden sneeze interrupted her train of thought. The fallen angel jerked, a menacing snarl escaping her as she clocked in the direction of the crumbling spire. The others followed her gaze. There was a faint mumbling emanating behind the structure. Soft. Panicked. _Uncertain._

They were certainly not alone. Not unless brick and timber could catch a cold.

With a rattling hiss, Abraxas clambered onto all fours and bridged the gap across the roof, eliciting a series of startled squeaks from the prying trespassers. 

“Well, well, look who we have here…” came the gravelly bark.

A moment later, Abraxas returned, holding two squirming demons by the nape of their necks. One Lailah recognised as Hell’s local oddball; the other sniffling miserably and looking rather ill, as if they’d just crawled out of the trenches. A third demon followed quietly from behind, almost regal in their stance, despite the precariousness of the situation.

“Seems like we have a bit of a spy problem.” huffed Nihiel, white wings fluffed up in indignation. They looked furious, angelic eyes crackling with thunder – a portrait of divine wrath.

“We didn’t _mean_ to eavesdrop on you!” wept the sickly-looking demon, raising a hand to wipe beads of perspiration from their brow. Whether they were sweating out of fear or illness, no one could be sure.

“Well, this is just _perfect…_” Seir mused, thin, crimson tongue darting out in thought. “We’re busted. Head Office is gonna have a field day on our hides! It’s one thing to bond with an angel out of necessity – to go along with this ‘great ineffable plan’; or whatever the hell it’s called! It’s quite another to fraternise and create for them out of the kindness of our hearts! _Unless…?”_

Seir cast a devious glance at the three unexpected guests, a crinkle to their lip. The trio squirmed uncomfortably.

“No. Absolutely not!” snapped Nihiel, her chequered skirt rustling as she strode to intercept what looked to be a very nasty plot in motion. Seir sneered at her.

“You have no business in the affairs of Hell, you white-winged fuc—"

“W-we won’t say anything! Downstairs never has to know!” interrupted the small, strange demon, their voice elevating in pitch, eliciting a sharp chirp like the midwinter song of a lonely cricket. “We… we don’t even know what’s going on here! We just got curious… sensed an angelic presence amongst a gathering of demons! We thought you were…”

Lailah cast a glance at Nihiel, who nodded carefully in return, understanding illuminating her cherubim features. She couldn’t linger here any longer. Not unless they wanted to bring down the entirety of Hell on their heads. It would only be a matter of time before others came looking, attracted by the scent of an angel like sharks beckoned by the blood of wounded bait.

“I’ll follow Saleos. See what’s happening Upstairs regarding the texts.”

Lailah nodded gratefully. “Keep us updated. We’ll see you soon--” She grimaced, eyeing their unexpected guests with a note of trepidation. “If we’re not roasting over a pool of boiling sulphur come morning, that is.”

The angel shook her head gravely, a note of sympathy in the pursed crease of her mouth - before she took to the skies with a flourish of pristine, snow-kissed feathers. The demons noted her departure, forgetting themselves for just a moment, until a soft whine cut short their distraction.

They had _almost_ forgotten about the small matter of tying up loose ends.

“C-can you let us go now?” whimpered a cricket-toned voice. The four entities turned their heads slowly, eyes narrowing in silent threat. The withering, occult spirit pointed to the sickly demon beside them. “W-w-we didn’t hear anything, I promise! We only just arrived when you sprang on us!”

“I was here the entire time.” shrugged the regal creature behind them, brazen in their honesty. The other two regarded their fellow with radiating panic, rapid breaths hitching in wildly spasming lungs. “But… for the record, what I thought you idiots pulled off was kind of… _nice._ Sweet, really.”

The demons bristled, unsure of whether to take offense at the suggestion. They weren’t supposed to be _nice!_

“In any case, I won’t say anything. Too much paperwork and tediously handwritten statements involved… and I don’t believe either of these two morons would be stupid enough to break their word.”

The elegant demon waved a graciously manicured hand in the direction of the still-squirming pair. They took the hint and nodded eagerly.

Abraxas’ grip loosened around their necks; slightly at first; before pulling away altogether with a puff of defeat, a snarl ebbing at their tongue. “I ssswear, if I ever sssuspect but an _inkling_ that you’re plotting againssssst _any_ of us, I will personally grind you _both_ to dussst!”

The flustered duo opened their mouths - desperately fumbling to spew their assurances - when a dark plume of energy tore at the air behind them with a wet, squelching roar.

Everyone took a visible step back, all manner of demonic appendages exposed in the sudden current of the opening rift. Crow-like wings threatened to rip from shoulder blades. Fangs and claws gripped at the crumbling roof for support. Slitted pupils enlarged to almost natural proportions as the now _seven_ occult beings were jarred forward with yowling hisses of terror.

And then; as quickly as it had appeared… it was _gone. _

The miniature black hole collapsed in on itself like a wound sown deftly shut – leaving in its stead a tall, hunched figure. Saleos. Their eyes gleaming in the unnatural hue of the half-fallen; scarlet fire marrying a pastel, sky blue.

“It’s happening.” Their voice, barely louder than a zephyr; gushed excitably.

The demons frowned, too ruffled from nearly being ripped from the fabric of reality to make much sense of their companion’s words.

“What they are trying to say is that the lost texts have been returned.”

Nihiel landed with a graceful flourish beside Saleos, her gentle face alit with an odd mixture of delight and uncertainty as she regarded the starlight sky above. She had only been gone for but a moment, yet the expression she wore was ancient, as if permanently etched onto her features centuries ago. It made it seem like eons had passed. “The angels have received your messages. Your… _art.”_

She took a breath, smiling at Saleos._ “_The news is already making its way around. All of Heaven will know about it soon enough.”

The demons visibly paled.

“A-all of HEAVEN?!” stammered Gremory with a sense of nervousness terribly unbefitting to one of Hell’s longest-serving inhabitants.

“And what did they say?” interjected Lailah hurriedly, ebony scales glinting in the frail moonlight. Terror rippled off her lily-petal skin in waves – but it was laced with a desperate curiosity. Some might say it was_ hope. _

The two ethereal beings flashed a secretive, knowing grin, peach-pink lips crinkling at the edges.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Saleos intoned, gesturing upwards with a theatrical flick of their wrist.

And that’s when they saw it.

All eyes cast to the heavens - to the distant borders of their old home - as a flurry of parchment rained down.

Gasps resonated through the crisp night air; hitching from dislodged jaws as muscles creaked wide in surprise – straining under the marionette-string pull of mouths thrust agape.

_Messages! These were messages from Above! _

The demons were on them as soon as the first note hit the rooftop. Seir unfolded it with a swift, clean miracle – and nearly buckled under the adoration that exuded from it in a torrent of euphoric pain.

“Issss it a trap? An attack meant to cripple usssss where we sssssstand?!” squeaked Abraxas, gazing about wildly as the roof was slowly invaded by the cascade of unrelenting parchment.

Lailah simply shook her head, submerging herself in the searing comfort of the fluttering notes. They tingled against her skin as tears welled, dripping in bloody rivulets down rose-tinted cheeks. She had never felt so _overwhelmed. _So utterly _defeated_ by the outpouring of _love_ from creatures that had long since shunned the very mention of her name.

This was forgiveness. This was absolution. This was friendship and family and… home.

For the very first time in 6000 years, the demons felt it. Believed it.

_They were finally home! _

***

If anyone dare ask what Heaven had looked on like that fateful evening, a particular group of demons, a wayward angel and a half-fallen deity may have said that it had existed on a desolate rooftop dusted with parchment. They might have claimed that the letters rose so high as to skim their knees – to bury them in a copse of snow-white feathers and softly spoken words.

It was on this day that a battle had been incited, harnessing a new breed of warfare. One born of a small act of seemingly insignificant kindness.

Heaven - never to shy from the allure of battle - had, naturally, retaliated - and the demons, in turn, continued their efforts - forging their last stand as Nihiel and Saleos passed on their messages from the rooftop to the very boundaries of the sky. To unobtainable places they feared to tread no longer.

“Well, there goes our reputations! Head Office is going to be so _pissed!_” tutted Seir, although they looked positively giddy despite the grim nature of their words, eyes flashing between the maelstrom of scripture that rained down like so many migrating butterflies. “There’s no way this’ll slip past them now!”

But not a soul seemed to care. _Not anymore. _They were lost in a memory of Heavenly love, palms raised and runes alit, like beacons reaching out into the shivering void of twilight, embracing a partner so many light-years away.

“Let them!” screamed Lailah, tears flowing in gushes over a parched terrain of porcelain skin. She twisted and writhed like a snake in shed; a performer reclaiming her steps in the dance.

In that moment, nothing else existed beyond the rooftop. Nothing else mattered. Even the unexpected snoopers had taken to the thrill of it all, celebrating with a plethora of exuberated yowls and hisses.

Saleos watched contently at the unexpected ripples as they flowed forth in the wake of their plan. It had seemed unlikely, _insane _perhaps, to have asked of such a thing. And yet, here they were. Demons and angels and the kinds in-between – consorting like old friends.

It felt good. _It felt right._

And it did not take long for the moment to be written. Securing a place on celestial bookshelves. To preserve eternally the waning hours in which Heaven and Hell had reached out, across seas and stars, to exchange a genuine connection in the face of all previous misgivings. To spare but a sliver of kindness, without prejudice, or expectation for something in return.

To become, for once, just a little more…

_Human._

***

**Author's Note:**

> The story: What is happening - and how does it relate to the 'truth'?
> 
> All characters that appear in this fic have been inspired by a set of artists participating in a 'big bang' - a massive fan event that pairs artists and authors from around the world to create unique, collaborative pieces centred around a specific fandom - in this case, Good Omens.  
Both are registered and separated as 'angels' and 'demons' - who may not pass information between their respective channels; hence, they are kept apart by a layer of secrecy until a set 'reveal' day, in which all paired couples showcase their work.  
However, the first trial both artists and writers must face is 'claims'. An event in which artists register their interest in a specific story, written by an anonymous author. Over 250 stories were up for grabs - but, with fewer demons than angels, five stories remained without a illustrator, until...  
The secret mission.  
A three hour 'mini bang' event was concocted to provide art and reach out to the final authors. To let them know just how beautiful their words were - and how every single person is appreciated and supported within the community.  
After a mad dash in which art was forged for the stories - three unexpected artists stumbled upon the event. Whilst they were too late to join, they became the inspirations behind the 'snooping' demons - just as the pieces were passed over the channels to surprise the authors.  
In an unexpected turn of events, this initiated one of the most tender moments in fandom history, of which the entire community rose up to pass messages of appreciation across the channels, bringing together fans from the across the globe. The 'war' this event incited still quietly simmers between the channels, with artwork and even poetry being sent across to bestow a little touch of kindness to the creatives working so hard to bring about something beautiful to be shared with fellow fans of the show and the wonderful minds who made it all possible! 
> 
> Last, but not least, a very special thanks to 'Saleos', for which this event would have failed to occur if not for their hair-brained scheming!


End file.
